The Last Centurion (2000 Years)
by MakingShortStoriesLong
Summary: In an alternate timeline, the Ancient Roman Empire was adrift in stories about Centurion Roranicus. The Brave Centurion. The Lonely Centurion. The Last Centurion. Stories were told and forgotten in time, and when time was rewritten, they never happened at all. Except for one man, and he isn't telling. So: What did Rory Williams get up to in all that time?
1. Chapter 1

It took a few years for the real Romans to arrive. It must have been about twenty, by Rory's calculations: stone walls covered in tally marks meant at least seven years, and an additional eight winters had passed since the walls filled - or was it nine?

After the Doctor left, Rory had sat at the base of the Pandorica for several days without moving. He was left numb by the commitment he had made and the time that stretched before him, but he knew he would do it again in an instant. He went through long phases of silence, interrupted by conversations with Amy. They were monologues, really, but he could imagine her responses and sometimes spoke those as well, so it almost felt like she was conversing with him. He could only hope that somehow, Amy heard him from inside the Pandorica, and his speeches were making it into her dreams.

His Amy-imitation would never compare to the real thing.

He kept track of the days, hacking marks into the stone walls around him when the sun rose each morning. The sunlight lit the cavern under Stonehenge faintly through the open entrance, and after the first week or so of sitting on guard, talking to himself and his imprisoned fiancée, he started wandering upstairs every morning to watch the sun rise. He also started cleaning up the cavern - he had to do something. He wound up with a large pile of Cyberparts, and wished he had the Doctor's mop to make dusting easier.

Slowly, he fell into a kind of routine. He stood guard all night when he knew was too dark to see anyone approaching the Pandorica, talking to himself and to Amy, his sword drawn. In the morning he watched the sun rise, before continuing his 'home improvement' projects. He didn't need food or sleep, so there was nothing useful he really needed to do or make, but he kept the cavern clean and made some interesting things out of cyberparts, with varying degrees of success. And whenever he heard a noise, he dropped his work and drew his sword, standing guard before the Pandorica.

At some point, the walls were filled, and Rory gave up counting the days. He stopped worrying too much about the seasons or the passing time, and just let it pass him by. So when something finally happened, he couldn't tell if he'd been there ten years or twenty.

One morning, Rory saw from the top of the stairs, where there had been nothing the morning before, a camp of tents and banners in Roman purple. It was too far off to make out many details, but he could faintly see legionnaires milling about the encampment. It wouldn't be long before he had a visit.

He wasn't able to close off the chamber; he wasn't sure he would have if he could. Locking oneself away from the world into total darkness is never appealing. But he did know from his time in the fake Roman army and, also, from history class years ago - wasn't Amy's report something about "Invasion of the Hot Italians"? - that Rome was all about conquest and exploration. They would come looking. He just had to stop them from looking further than the surface.

He retreated into the cavern for the next few days to not draw attention to himself. But one afternoon, as he paced in front of the Pandorica, reviewing his medical studies in his head, he heard two sets of footsteps cautiously descending the stairway. He drew his sword and assumed his position in front of the Pandorica.

The two men who stepped into the cavern were Romans, dressed in armor and wielding swords. They quickly took in Rory's purple cloak and centurion's badge, and suddenly snapped into salutes and nearly shouted, "_Ave_, Centurion."

Rory was briefly taken aback. He'd almost forgotten he was dressed as a ranking Roman officer. He nodded to the two of them. "Ave," he said, as gravely as he could.

The two legionnaires released their salutes. The on the right, who was slightly taller and had black hair cut very short, addressed Rory. "Centurion, we are Legionnaires Celsus and Avilius of the Sixth Victorious Legion, encamped close by here on a mission to expand the Holy Roman Empire to these isles. What legion are you of and - " he looked sideways at his partner, who nodded slightly in encouragement - "how did you come to be here?"

"Um, well," Rory hesitated, "I'm not currently of any legion. It's, a bit of a long story, actually."

The shorter, blond soldier spoke up. "What is this you are guarding?"

"I'm not sure I can explain," Rory began. Then he remembered something else about the Romans - their religion. "I'm here on behalf of - of the gods. Jupiter himself has commanded me to guard this. He didn't really explain, actually. I'm just, well, fulfilling my duty as a centurion of the legions of Rome."

The taller soldier looked awed. The blond looked skeptical. "We'll have to inform the Centurion Primus that you are here. He may wish to come and speak to you. Can you come with us to our camp?"

The taller man swatted the blond. "He's on guard duty for the _gods,_ man. You can't ask him to step away from that!" The blond soldier scowled.

"No, I can't leave," Rory told them. "But I will be happy to speak with your Head Centurion."

The two soldiers nodded and started to turn away, but the shorter man turned back. "What was your name?"

"Oh, uh - Centurion Roranicus."

"Nice to meet you, Centurion. We will return." He followed his comrade up the stairs, and the two of them vanished from Rory's sight. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he would just have to work on a story for the leader of their cohort. He chuckled to himself. "Roranicus. Did you hear that Amy? Rory, short for Roranicus. _Centurion _Roranicus..."

It was the first moment of excitement Rory had had in a long time. Ever the realist and slightly the pessimist, Rory wondered if it might have been better to stay bored for two thousand years. He had to keep any nosy Romans from opening up this box - but first, he had to have a good story for the real Roman Centurion that would keep him alive and with Amy.

Rory leaned his head against the Pandorica. "Amy," he breathed, "I miss you."


	2. Cato Avilius

The Centurion Primus never allowed his steady, calculating gaze to falter, and remained every inch the Roman soldier as Rory stammeringly explained his lie. Yes, the box was very valuable. No, he didn't know what it was for or how long he would be guarding it. Yes, Jupiter himself had appeared to him, in the form of- the form of- the form of an eagle that turned into a man. With each unfolding portion of his tale, the eyes of the tall soldier from yesterday grew wider and wider, while the eyes of the short legionnaire narrowed suspiciously. But the Centurion's eyes were fixed on scrutinizing Rory.

"And you have been standing guard here for how long?" the Centurion Primus demanded again.

"About twenty years, I think," Rory said wearily.

"And in all that time, you have neither slept not eaten?"

"No," Rory said. "It was Jupiter's blessing."

The Centurion Primus finally showed some emotion, a look of awe spreading across his face as he bowed. "All of the Empire shall be told of your story. The name Roranicus has taken it's place among the heroes of the ages!" he proclaimed grandly. "You must have been a truly brave Centurion to be distinguished thusly by Jupiter Maximus himself."

Rory gave a sort of half-nod, tilting his head in modest agreement.

"We will leave you to your duty unhindered. We mustn't interfere in the will of the gods." He seemed to be talking mostly to himself now.

"You don't have to go to any lengths to avoid me," Rory interjected. "Really, if you want to look around down here, or up there, or wherever, it's fine."

"Yes, yes. My cohort won't be here long. Only a year or two, before we go home to Rome. Perhaps you will make the journey with us," he suggested. "The Emperor would be pleased to meet you. Or would that break your oath to the gods?"

Go to Rome? Rory thought. Well, it certainly sounds better than standing under Stonehenge for eternity. "No, that would be fine," he said aloud.

"It was only a suggestion. We have the time to think on it. Good bye, Centurion."

"Good bye," Rory said, and the Centurion Primus and his two guards turned and ascended the stairs out of sight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Late in the day before sunset, Rory was sitting in front of the Pandorica when he again heard the sound of descending footsteps. He had just risen and drawn his sword when the same short, blond legionnaire from the earlier visits appeared at the bottom of the entry stairs. He seemed taller without the imposing figure of his Centurion or his friend, actually; if he would just tell Rory his name, he could stop thinking of him as 'the short one'.

"Ave," he said, saluting briefly.

Rory nodded in response. "Hello."

"You remember me from earlier today?" the legionnaire asked. His tone sounded strained; he wasn't sure what to say.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry, I - I didn't catch your name," Rory said.

"I'm Avilius," he said. "Cato Avilius." He looked hesitantly around the chamber, and then walked over to the wall, where a sheet of metal from a rusting Cyberman, torn and twisted into odd designs, hung at an odd angle from a crevice. He studied it with his hands behind his back as if to keep them from reaching out and grabbing it. "I couldn't help but notice this earlier. What is it?"

"Well, it's - I'm not really sure, to be honest. I'm not much of an artist," Rory said self consciously. "It was just something to do. And the robots on the floor were starting to freak me out."

"Robots?" Avilius asked.

"Oh, right. Metal men."

"Ah, I see." He cast his eyes about the room again, and Rory began to feel nervous. The Roman Centurion had promised not to interfere, but if this soldier thought he had something to gain by looting the Pandorica, it wasn't much of a stretch to believe he'd disobey orders. "I didn't come down here just to ask about your artwork, actually, unusual as it may be. I came to ask about your story about the gods."

"What about it?" Rory asked cautiously.

The legionnaire studied him with a strange look in his eyes. He was a man about to step off a cliff. "What really happened?"

"You don't believe in the gods?"

"No, I don't, and I don't think you do either."

"What makes you think that?"

Avilius snorted. "No one would trust Jupiter enough to just do as he bid without at least asking. King though the stories may make him, he is still a fickle god to please. But even if you were a fool, you would have been a happy one. You told us that story without any emotion crossing your face except concentration. I imagine you were trying to keep your lies straight."

"Right, well, first of all, maybe after waiting around for two decades I'm a little not happy with the god who put me here. But secondly, if I am lying, why is it any of your business?"

Avilius shrugged. "it isn't. I was curious, and I thought maybe you would like to share the true story with some one. But if you prefer eternal solitude to conversation, I will withdraw to camp." He stood there a moment, waiting for a reply. Without one, he strode back to the steps.

Rory almost let him walk away. It was safer. But two decades had been rough - how much worse would two thousand years be? "It wasn't the gods," he called out, and Avilius halted on the second step. Rory sheathed his sword. "I don't believe in them, either. It's a bit more complicated than that."

The legionnaire turned and sat on the steps. "I'm all ears."

Rory sat as well, at the base of the Pandorica. "It's kind of because of a friend of mine. Well, he's more my fiancée's friend than mine. But anyway, we were traveling with him - " Avilius held up a finger.

"Where is your fiancée now?"

Rory stared at him like he didn't understand the question. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell anyone. He was here to keep Amy safe. But he said, "She's right here," and patted the side of the Pandorica. "inside it, I mean. She was injured, in a battle, and now I'm protecting her." He wouldn't say that she was dead, or that he had killed her. If he could never say those things again, he would.

Avilius looked at him like he was crazy, but something - kindness, or wisdom - held him back from the more prying questions about Rory's sanity, and instead lead him to ask, "So why is she in there?"

"It's to help her recover," Rory said. "it's going to heal her. But it will take a very long time." Rory found himself explaining everything to Avilius, working backwards and turning the story inside out to explain ever detail. The Roman was fascinated by every point of it, particularly the minute scientific details that Rory didn't understand. At one point he said:

"Centurion, you said you did not believe in gods. But your friend sounds like one."

"No, no," Rory said, scowling. "The Doctor would be a terrible god. Actually, that's rather horrifying, him ruling anything. It's all science and running around and pretending he knows everything."

"Ah. Then it's too bad you have such a strict definition of god. I was going to say, that you yourself could count as one."

Rory scoffed. "No, not really."

"From what I gather, you're nearly immortal. You've traveled among magic and battled monsters. You've defended the weak and saved lives. And now you give up your freedom to tether yourself to your wounded lady, who you may not speak with or even see for another several hundred years. Really, you couldn't be a god; you're overqualified." They both laughed softly at this. "But really, you should get your religion started. Make me high priest, I'll build a temple, and we're all set." He looked over the shoulder and up the stairs. The light had dimmed greatly since he'd descended. Rory guessed the sun had almost set by now. "I have to be back at camp," Avilius said, rising. "But I'll visit again, Centurion Roranicus."

"Please, just call me Rory."

Avilius nodded. "Good bye, Rory."

"Bye, Avilius."

Cato Avilius visited again a few days later. Rory was standing guard as per usual when he came down the stairs. "Ave," he called out, again saluting briefly.

"Hello," Rory said. "You don't have to do that, you know. I'm not really an officer."

"Of course," Avilius acknowledged. "But you probably will be soon. I believe the Centurion Primus is planning to induct you into our Legion." He smirked at Rory's half-startled, half-annoyed expression. "He wants all the glory of the Roman Empire to belong to him, personally."

"Huh. Our fake legion was surprisingly accurate," Rory mused. "We had power hungry centurions too. Although ours were mostly trying to impress fake Cleopatra." He sheathed his sword. "Right, so, I told you all about myself yesterday. What about you?"

Avilius shrugged. "I'm from Rome. I joined the army when I was seventeen, and I haven't been home in nine years. And that's pretty much it."

"Really?" Rory asked.

"Really," Avilius agreed. "I've been wondering Centurion, about your name. I've never heard Roranicus before. Is it common, it your time?"

Rory smiled. He was thinking of Amy, how she'd suggested his name was short for Roranicus. "No, it's not. My real name is just Rory. Rory Williams, actually. Roranicus was something my fiancée suggested, before she died. It was before she remembered me, actually. She thought it sounded Roman."

"And your fiancée – you still haven't told me what her name was."

Rory's voice caught in his throat. "Amelia," he said hoarsely. "Amelia Pond. We called her Amy."

"And what was she like?"

"Red hair. Brown eyes. Long legs. Funny, clever, stubborn, brave. Scottish." Rory could have described her in his sleep. The image of her was engraved on the back of his eyelids. He could never forget her.

"She was beautiful. Growing up, she was my best friend. It was actually our other best friend, Mels, who finally got us together. I had a crush on her for the longest time. But she was always sort of – out there. She wanted to move and do and see, even if there wasn't any reason for it, even if she was just, soft of, spinning in circles. She wouldn't settle for me." He could still manage to be a little angry at her for that, for never standing still, for being so busy trying to look further and harder for something worthwhile that she couldn't see anything a metre in front of her face. She would have missed a butterfly on a flower at her feet because she was squinting at one in the distance. But as angry as he had been then, when he was the butterfly at her feet and the "imaginary" Raggedy Doctor was the one on the horizon, now it was sort of cute. Nothing about Amy seemed anything but sweet anymore.

"She sounds lovely," Avilius said.

"So, how are things going up there?" Rory asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Just an average conquest by Rome," Avilius said. "Same old training, same old food, same old exploring."

"No, seriously," Rory said. "The last time I learned anything about the Romans was in school years ago. Why did the legion even come here?"

Avilius looked at him curiously. "I thought you were reborn into a Roman legion." That was how Rory had explained his becoming a plastic soldier.

"Right, I was, but it was a fake one. What's it like, in the real legions?"

Avilius frowned at the ground. "It's a lot to explain. I expect if you were really dropped into the middle of our legion and expected to fight, you would figure it out easily. It's all very structured, very organized."

Rory nodded. "Sounds - efficient."

"For the most part." Avilius and Rory both stared around the cavern. Avilius coughed slightly. "Well, I should return to camp. I have guard duty tonight."

"Come back and tell me if your Head Centurion is really planning this induction thing, okay?" Rory requested.

"As soon as I find out." And Avilius left.

_This could become quite the pattern,_ Rory thought. _People coming and going, while I sit here forever. _He sighed, stood up, and began pacing in front of the Pandorica.


End file.
